February 10, 2010
Seems to be a constant adjustment. Retirement now. Something I’ve looked forward to my entire life. Time to travel, to do nothing, or anything at all. I always thought the main requirement was to acquire and pay off a house. That way, I’d have no rent to pay, no mortgage. The reduced income at retirement would be plenty for food, utilities and travel. I could travel nearly every month if I wanted: see India, Russia, Siam, Thailand, Ireland, Scotland, Japan, Egypt. Mardi gras in New Orléans. Carnival in Brazil. Tango in Argentina. Maybe live abroad for a while, get to really know people in other countries.
Getting divorced changed those plans. I’d been so close. A little longer and I’d have had the house paid off. I’d been paying on my own house, but sold it. I used the little equity I was able to squeak out of selling it at a loss to pay off credit card debts my wife and I had. That was another part of the retirement plan: no debts of any kind! My wife and I refinanced her house, put it in both our names and I was paying extra again, on a 15-year mortgage that I could still pay off before retirement. All was going according to plan, then there was the divorce. Then I found myself without a house, close to retirement. Too late to buy a house now, and no money to buy one with anyway. Now I’m retired. And I rent. It’s not cheap. I pay for medical and dental insurance out of less income. I pay very little for utilities, but I have to pay renter’s insurance – it’s required by the rules of the compound I live in. I pay car insurance, and a phone bill, and pay to connect online. I eat out occasionally, rent movies, buy cheap books online. Mostly I read, watch movies, hike a little. Strange.
It’s a new adjustment. I have the freedom to pick up and leave now. No ties. No house to maintain. I could go live anywhere, well, not anywhere, but anywhere I could live cheap. My income is about half what it was. I’d also have to put my things in storage, or get rid of everything. Where to go? Random? Would it make me happier? What would I do? What do I want to do?
Do I really want to do just nothing?
What’s a life without someone to live it with?
Anyone? No. It’d have to be someone pretty damn special, like Karen. I like living alone, but then again, I’m not really living, just existing. I didn’t think this would happen until I was 80 or 90, something like that. I’ve got no real desire to live that long now. What ever for? Existence is futile. Living is resisting death. I no longer fear death. I don’t seek it, but, if it comes, it comes. No resistance.